


(video) call me any, any time

by singagainsoon



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, Bad Dirty Talk, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Long Distance Sex, M/M, Married Characters, Married Sex, Mutual Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Webcam/Video Chat Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-27
Updated: 2018-09-27
Packaged: 2019-07-18 10:49:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16116854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/singagainsoon/pseuds/singagainsoon
Summary: When Newt finds himself away from Hermann for a business trip of sorts, they figure out fairly quickly that they won't last until Newton comes home.





	(video) call me any, any time

**Author's Note:**

> my prompt for the 2k18 newmann porn fest was video chat sex!! so here we go! 
> 
> you can catch me on twitter @kaijubf

_11:03 pm Hey herm i miss u_

_11:03pm Like alot_

_11:03pm I kept thinking about you today_

_11:03pm And now im_

_11:04pm All alone in this lonely hotel room_

_11:05pm Alone_

He flicks the bedside lamp on and props himself against the pillows stacked up along the headboard. Hermann rolls his eyes though Newton cannot see him, and the corner of his mouth pulls upwards into a fond smile in spite of himself. Hermann would be a terrible liar if he attempted to insinuate that he was not missing Newton as well. Hermann can almost picture him sprawled lazily across the bed in his hotel room, taking up more than half the available space, boxers bunched around his ankles, legs spread shamelessly, imagining every dirty thing he might beg Hermann to do to him, moaning loud enough to bother the neighbors.

Heat coils low in his belly, simmering. Newt will be home in a few days, yes, but Hermann is hardly ever without him, and that suddenly seems entirely too long to wait. A bit of indulgence never hurt anyone, he supposes. He taps out the beginnings of something vaguely teasing ( _I would have thought a day’s worth of conferences would have exhausted you, liebling._ ). Hermann’s top lip curls in dissatisfaction. That doesn’t sound right. Hermann does not want to be, as Newton would put it, "That Guy", but his sexting expertise is very unfortunately lacking. Is there, he wonders, a better way to word the inevitable _What If I Was There? :)_

He clears the message and begins a statement more on the flirty side like _What would you do if we were together?_ but it feels far too adolescent, too unlike anything Hermann would find himself saying under any reasonable circumstances.

But these are not reasonable circumstances. Home alone in a bed too large for just one person, Hermann summons every ounce of gutsy forwardness that he has hiding away in the pit of his stomach. The tips of his fingers tingle, prickling with adrenaline.

_11:13pm If you were not alone, what would you like to do? -H_

The red beginning of a blush starts its slow creep up his chest onto his neck, his cheeks, his nose. Newton’s reply _pings_ back almost instantly while Hermann is busy stripping out of his clothes down to his undershirt and briefs. He wonders if Newton will want a picture. Hermann cannot seem to angle them right no matter how he tries, and he fails to see anything enticing in his choice of underclothes, though if it bothers Newton, he would never know it. He settles on his back atop the neatly folded covers. Even on his own, he cannot help but feel a bit on the ridiculous side.

_11:14pm Oh my god herm are you really tryin to like sext me rn_

_11:19pm That is the result I was hoping for, yes. -H_

_11:20pm OKAY OKAY OKAY OKAY_

_11:20pm IM already like half hard dude_

_11:20pm just kiddign im super hard_

_11:21pm Like u?? Initiating this??? HOT!_

_11:23pm [image attached]_

_11:23pm Wait what are you wearin_

_11:24pm dont actually tell me tho make up something sexy_

_11:26pm Implying that what I tend to wear isn’t sexy? -H_

_11:27pm OH CMON u know what i mean_

_11:28pm Contrary to popular belief, darling, I’m familiar with how this generally works. -H_

_11:29pm WAIT BETTER IDEA get yr laptop_

Hermann’s cock gives a single, shameful throb where it is pressed half-hard against his thigh. They have only, to date, done this once. It was years ago, a bit after that first Drift when Newton had gone to scope out a potential job (and apartment, spacious enough for their first shared place) in Boston, and Hermann had been nothing short of bashful that time, too. He is still not quite certain what to do with his body, how to sit, what the right things to say are. Even so, it’s thrilling, in its own way.

When he answers Newton’s video call, he is settled at his desk with a pillow cushioning his lower back; and Hermann’s heart is drumming a steady, wild rhythm just beneath his adam’s apple. The screen fills with a blurry image, more staticy white noise than Newton at first and he manages to tear his eyes from the little square in the corner that depicts Hermann, himself, from the top of his head to just below his shoulders.

When his husband at last clears up and comes into view, Hermann has to blink once, then twice to be sure he is looking at what he thinks he’s looking at. It is Newton, of course, against the backdrop of his dim hotel room, though only from the neck down, standing proudly with his hands planted on the curves of his hips. He sports a pair of nearly sheer pale blue panties, the too-small garment stretched tight around the curve of his hips like trying to fit a large peg in a not-quite-large-enough hole, straining in the front. Hermann feels his eyebrows go shooting up into his hairline.

“Newton!” He sounds like a stepped-on squeaky toy.

A moment later, perhaps just the slightest bit delayed, Newt’s hearty laugh comes fuzzing through his laptop speakers. He sounds like Hermann is hearing him through a tin can telephone, all homesick love and shiny new excitement. “You like ‘em?”

“Of course I do, I just- I suppose I wasn’t expecting- Ah, what I mean to say is that you look-”

“Hot? Sexy? _Delicious?_ ” Hermann wrinkles his nose, and Newton gives the waistband a satisfying little _snap_.

“Enticing. Lovely.” He drops his voice an octave the way Newton likes. “Ravishing.”

“ _God._ I’ve had these on, like, all day, y’know.”

Hermann leans back in his desk chair, relaxing a bit. It is so nice to hear Newton’s voice, to see him. Newton’s hands skirt down over the downy skin of his stomach, his hips, his soft thighs, back up again so he can tease his thumb over his frilly waistband. Hermann’s cock gives an interested twitch, but he rests his clammy palm flat on his bare thigh and resists the urge to touch himself through his underwear. “All day, _Schatz_?”

“All day,” he repeats. There is a brief moment where Newton reconfigures himself, and his face pops into view. His glasses sit crooked on his nose. “I was just sitting in these stuffy meetings all day, Herm, but, like, every time I moved my legs, I could feel the fabric brushing me. And it just felt so good.”

Hermann’s breath catches in his throat, and he drums his fingers against his leg. He swallows thickly, catches a glimpse of himself in the little window in the corner, of his adam’s apple bobbing with the effort. His mouth feels dry. “How good, Newton?”

“ _So good_ , Hermann,” Newton all but moans, sliding his thumb under the waistband of his panties and inching them down just a bit. The flushed tip of his cock pokes from the top of them, pressed between the pantes and his soft stomach, and Hermann has to wonder exactly how long Newton has been in this state. “I just kept wishing you were there to, like, fuck me in the bathroom. Or pull me down the hall and shove me in a closet and just have your way with me.”

He needs something to do with his hands - anything to keep from feeling that he has boulders weighing his arms down. Hermann swallows again. He rubs the stiff nub of his left nipple through the pristine white of his undershirt. There is a brief moment where Newton disappears to reconfigure the laptop, then reappears to seat himself on the edge of the bed, legs spread. “Tell me what you’re thinking, big guy,” he prompts.

“What do you want me to tell you, Newton? Do you want me to whisper filth to you?” Hermann intends it to sound playfully mean, not earnest and inquisitive as it ends up. This is the part that Hermann was not particularly good at last time. He feels ridiculous saying things aloud, but looking at Newton - so beautiful and eager, watching him expectantly - he manages to say, “I-I want to rip those right off you.”

Newton grins. He lifts his hand to his chest, no doubt with the intention to tweak one of his own little pink nipples, but he stops abruptly to look into the camera at Hermann, who blinks owlishly back. ”Wait! I wanna see you, Hermann.”

“I haven’t started, ah, touching myself yet.”

Newton shifts his hips against the firm surface of the bed and lets his eyes flutter closed for a brief moment. When they open, Newton peers at him through pleasure-stupid lids, his mouth sweet and a bit dopey. Hermann watches the grinding roll of his hips, the way his thighs flex, the rippling of his slight muscles moving beneath his tattoos. Hermann wants to press his face to the crease where Newt’s thigh meets the rest of his body and breathe in deeply, lavish him with kisses. As if he knows this, Newton’s lips part with a whine. “Oh, but Hermann, Herm, _honey_ , please?”

He leans forward to tilt the laptop screen, angling it to give Newton a better view. Through the speakers, Newt groans shamelessly. “That’s good, then?”

“More than good, Herm, that’s perfect- _God,_ look at you, all hard for me already.”

Hermann blushes bright red and worries his bottom lip between his teeth. “Newt-”

“Take ‘em off,” he breathes, slipping his hand between his thighs to palm at the outline of his erection. Newt’s pupils are blown wide, his face slack with want. Hermann lifts himself out of the computer chair enough to shimmy clumsily out of his underwear. Newton moans and grinds his hips down once more. “I know they say the camera adds ten pounds or whatever, but they never said anything about _inches,_ dude-”

“I ought to give that mouth of yours something better to do,” Hermann pants, letting his legs fall open and gripping his hand tight around the base of his cock. He slides it up his length, moaning quietly, and twists his wrist on the upstroke. Newton rubs himself methodically through the front of the panties, over the growing damp spot that darkens the delicate fabric. His pink mouth sticks open in a perfect little “o”. “You patronizing, sweet thing- Ought to keep you quiet.”

Newton elicits a high-pitched whine, something strangled and bordering on pained, and reaches into the panties to jerk himself harder. His arm twists, flexes, moving the Kaiju stamped on it. “ _Yeah_ , yeah- Would you choke me with that big cock? Make me shut up?”

“Oh- _oh_ , ah, yes,” Hermann manages, hips stuttering forward into his grip. He circles his thumb absently just beneath the head of his prick. Newton utters a shrill cry, but he does not come. He does not do anything, in fact, aside from pumping his length faster and throwing his head back almost hard enough to give himself whiplash. “Yes, Newton, darling, if that’s what you- Yes, I would.”

There is sudden tight urgency building behind his balls like pressure in the pit of a dormant volcano. He is bright red, blushing madly from his high cheekbones and the tips of his ears to the too-sensitive, leaking tip of his cock. Newton works his hips furiously, pausing only to shove his panties further down his thighs.

Hermann swipes his thumb over his slit, through gathering beads of precome, and cries out. His mind fights to reconcile this Newton, panties around his knees and whimpering, with the Newton in the front of his mind, choking on the stiff length of his dick until tears prickle at the crinkled corners of his eyes. Every nerve ending in his body burns, and it is all at once too much and not enough. He feels lightheaded, overwhelmed.

“Put- put your leg on the arm of the chair,” Newton says, slowing his pace enough that he can manage the better part of a sentence without whining. “No, your good one. I wanna see that cute little hole.”

“You sound like you belong in a low-budget porn, Newton.” Hermann does little to conceal the want that strains his words and rolls in hot waves through his belly.

“Watch a lot of bad porn, babe?” Newt can’t keep the charming chuckle from his voice.

“I- _no_!” But Hermann lets go of himself and obeys without the good deal of squawking Newton was no doubt preparing for, arranging himself as best he can between the back of the chair and the pillow. Newt’s tongue darts out to lick his lips. Hermann’s chest is heaving, and he can feel his heartbeat thrumming wildly through his prick. He resumes stroking himself and, fighting to seem casual and sexy and vaguely aloof, Hermann slips one of his long fingers into his mouth. Newton makes a surprised noise in the back of his throat and bucks his hips into his hand. Hermann laves his tongue over his finger, imagining instead that he is gently probing the inside of Newton’s mouth.

Longing makes his thighs tremble, and his entire body aches with it.

“That’s it,” Newt mumbles, low and husky and almost to himself as much as to Hermann; and the pair moan in tandem when Hermann releases his finger with a wet _pop_ and rubs it across the pucker of his exposed entrance. His back arches, tense and curved like a bow, and Hermann keens loudly, obscenely over Newton’s string of nearly incoherent encouragements. Embarrassment and arousal lick up his spine like white-hot flames.

" _Gott_."

He feels nothing short of filthy, writhing under Newton's watchful gaze, but it excites him, jolting down his crooked spine right to the tip of his erection. Judging by the way Newton shudders sweetly beneath the scrabbling of his own hands, it excites him, too. Hermann traces his finger around the tight ring of muscle, distantly aware that he is creating more than a fair bit of mess with his other hand, smearing precome all along his length, over his hand and his thighs, the bit of stomach below his navel that he shudders when Newton touches. Hermann’s eyelids flutter as his cock twitches in his hand.

Newton’s breath comes in short, shallow huffs, and Hermann watches his frenzied pace pick up until he is stuck fucking into his fist with little semblance of any rhythm, rutting down into the mattress. Hermann’s name escapes his lips, breaking in the middle, the end syllable rising an octave. Hermann pumps his hand faster, rubs his thumb over his hole without pushing it inside. His hips jerk forward, and his thighs spasm closed, but he strokes himself through it and forces his thighs apart again; Hermann knows all too well that his muscles are clenching tight around nothing, his stomach tense. Newt won’t last longer than a few minutes, but Hermann suspects that neither will he.

He is such a pretty picture, gasping and thrusting awkwardly into his own fist. Hermann thinks of the way Newton’s moans are tiny tremors under his lips, the way Newton feels curled against him, tense and twitching and whining against his kisses - or rather, Hermann thinks of the way he _would_ be feeling these things, Newton’s hands, his wet mouth, his bucking hips, the sharp bite of his teeth sucking hickeys across Hermann’s rib cage. A knot pulls tight between his angular hips.

“ _Oh_ , oh, fuck, Hermann- I can’t, I’m gonna come. Oh, _shit._ ”

“Then come,” Hermann says through gritted teeth. The muscles in his shaking thighs strain, and pain stabs lightly at the dimples in his lower back, but it all pales in comparison with the hot bursts of pleasure that spark through his limbs. He squeezes himself in his fist, makes a valiant attempt to shove down his impending orgasm if only for a few more seconds. He affects a cloying, sticky-sweet tone that usually makes Newton whine through his teeth and adds, “Please, _liebling_ , for me?”

A sharp, jagged shriek wrenches itself from the depths of Newton’s compact, sturdy body as he does just that. Hermann watches him jerking, twitching on the hotel bed as his orgasm rips through him. Where Hermann’s back arches, Newton curls in on himself, whimpering and moaning helplessly. Come shoots from him in great spurts, hitting his chest and his stomach and the sheets. His arm still moves up and down his length as though there might still be one last, pleasured-pained jerk of his hips left.

Hermann misses just what happens after that because he comes too, and his eyes wrench themselves shut tight, wide mouth hanging open soundlessly until the relief of some odd and guttural cry dislodges itself from the bottom of his throat. His release spills heavy over his clenched fist, and Hermann feels its sticky warmth splatter the undershirt he’d not had the foresight to remove. His body jolts, and his face contorts into something he is sure Newton finds at least mildly off-putting as the high-peaked wave of his orgasm crashes, rolling him down through the aftershocks along with it. Hermann wrings a final sad spurt from his oversensitive, quickly-softening cock, and waits for his erratic heart to quiet.

He slumps in the chair, boneless and dirty and spent, and opens his eyes to find Newton looking back at him. His heart squeezes. Newt is still fighting to catch his breath; and he is love personified, warm and nut-happy and beaming and too far away. Hermann wants nothing more than to kiss him, to keep him close in the cradle of his arms.

Instead, he says, “Goodness,” and relishes in the homey sound of Newton’s laugh.

 


End file.
